


Last Words

by Grinner_H



Series: Soulmates [4]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, M/M, Necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/pseuds/Grinner_H
Summary: For this prompt :Everyone is born knowing their soulmate’s (future) biggest secret(selected byAshfromMaster List of Soulmate AUs).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PremiraMia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PremiraMia/gifts).



> For this prompt : _Everyone is born knowing their soulmate’s (future) biggest secret_ (selected by **[Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida)** from **[Master List of Soulmate AUs](https://r-evolve-art.tumblr.com/post/144380748003/master-list-of-soulmate-aus)** ).

Somehow, you had always known this would happen.

You'd buried this knowledge, this… _backward memory._ Buried it down deep because there was never a place for it in the absolute _fuckfest_ that's been your life.

But here it is. This moment. 

And it's a surreal thing, standing outside of yourself, watching him. 

Watching him press gentle, urgent kisses against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids, your cheek. Then, tentatively, your lips. His breath leaves him in rough, harsh sounds; underscored with desperation and disbelief. He looks like his mind is breaking, eroding, falling apart like the rest of him.

You wonder what he tastes like. The memory of it is fresh in your mind, but upon your tongue, you - uncomprehendingly, _frustratingly_ \- feel nothing. 

You wonder how you taste to _him._

Are you as cold as you look? Are you warm, as your blood is meant to feel upon his lips?

His grip upon you is strong. Too fucking tight. He is holding you close. So close that you're certain his nails are denting the flesh of your arm, breaking your skin beneath the flimsy fabric of your robe. 

You try to recall his scent, fill your dead lungs with it. He never wore cologne. He smoked too many cigarettes. You imagine he would've smelled like strength. And maybe, in this moment, _despair._

The gun still rests incriminatingly in your hand. Your fingers are curled in a lifeless grip around it. Your body is an empty vessel, bleeding out. 

It scares you, this… _unfeelingness._

Terrifying to realize that you can't smell, or feel, or taste him. Doomed to stand here, so close and so fucking far away, unable to reach him. Unable to do anything but watch. 

And you are frozen, watching him kiss his way from your bloodied lips to the pale column of your throat. His hand finds its way beneath the folds of your robe. The silk of it falls away beneath his trembling fingers. He strokes your chest, your ribs, your hip. Presses his mouth to the hole in your chest. Reaches between your legs. He strokes you the way he did, only some hours ago now, but you cannot feel it. Your form feels nothing. Your body remains limp in his arms.

His actions are a mocking mimicry of what he had done. And it makes you sad, knowing that he has it in him to _care._ Knowing that you can't have him. 

You have always known that he was never meant to be yours. 

Grief and regret. He does not wear them well, but he wears them anyway. They rest upon his shoulders like Death's shadow. His fingers, his lips. They leave no part of you untouched, and they come away covered in blood. He touches you as if he could caress life into your bones. Kisses you as if he could force breath into your lungs and a beat into your broken heart.

 _Don't die,_ he whispers, panicked and pleading. He sounds… _mad._ Like he's filled with insanity and unending _rage._

Against your hair, against your skin, he whispers. His voice is a desperate, shattered thing.

Somehow, you had always known.

That he could never bring himself to admit to loving you.

That you would only have his heart once you were dead.

—

 _Don't die,_ he had said.

But you didn't listen.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Must it be this way?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9780707) by [PremiraMia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PremiraMia/pseuds/PremiraMia)




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